Free
by boredsvunut
Summary: A postep for 'Bound' that's been bouncing around in my head forever. Let me know what you think.


1(Disclaimer: Law & Order: SVU belongs to that brilliant man, Dick Wolf and the big company called NBC. They're not mine. How much clearer can it get?

I hear the uniform - Martinez - reading Emma her rights, as he leads her from the room. But I ignore it, staring at the table in front of me, like I'm expecting it to change or move. I'm not going to cry. Not crying. I squeeze my eyes closed tightly, as the tears burn hot. What the hell am I crying over?

It was an act. Elliot and I do that pretty regularly. We act as a couple - husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend. This time we reenacted a sibling rivalry, to make Emma see me as an ally. What difference does this make? It was still an act. It wasn't real.

Not crying. I clench my hands so my nails dig into my palms. There's nothing worth crying over. I bite my lip. Maybe the pain will stop the tears. I'm not going to cry. He's not going to see that he upset me. No. I'm not going to let him see this. He's not going to see that I took this personally. Every word from his mouth was like a slap in the face.

I've been dragged down before. I've been told I'm weak and stupid and useless before. Why's it bothering me now? Because it came from him. That's why. Damn it.

I hear the blinds slap the window and the latch click as he opens the door and shuts it. "Liv?"

Damn it. He's a damned Boy Scout, Elliot Stabler. If he'd given me five more minutes, everything would have been fine. He wouldn't have to see me just about to cry over nothing. "Go away." It's the only retort I can manage, right now.

"Hey." I hear the scrape of metal on the floor tiles as he pulls out a chair. He's beside me. I can feel the heat from his body. "What's wrong?"

"You deaf? Go away. Get lost. Go to hell. Whatever. Just leave me alone!" I shove back my chair and glare at him. "Don't you know how to do that! Can't you just stay the hell out of my life for once!"

"Whoa. Calm down." He gets up, to look at me. "What's going on with you?"

I'm not really angry. I'm scared. I don't want him to see me like this. I can't cry in front of him. But I'm about to.

"You didn't take that seriously, did you?" His hand is warm, solid and comforting on my shoulder. I jerk back and glare at him. "God, Liv. You know I don't"-

I shake my head. "You don't"-

He makes me look at him. His blue eyes are concerned. "I didn't mean a word of that. You're an equal. Hell, you're twice the cop I am. I just"-

A tear works it's way down my face, through the mask. I bite my lip to hold it back. I'm not going to do this. This is something my four walls and my pillow should share. It's not something I should do in front of him. "This is the first time I've ever felt even the tiniest bit of sympathy for a killer. And I don't like it. It's scaring me." The words are out of my mouth before I can bite them back.

It wasn't our staged fight that upset me. It's the fact that I feel sympathetic toward Emma, who's a murderer. She murdered her twin brother. And innocent, defenseless old women. I sympathize with the perp, not the victim.

"What?" He looks at me, confused.

I sigh. "You saw the old slides, the night we went to talk to her. Matt got the attention and Emma was shoved off into the corner. But when Mom needed help, guess who took care of her? Emma. I know what that feels like. I've been in her situation. I know she's a killer, but I feel sympathy for her, in some ways."

"Huh?"

I sit back down. "My mother - she drowned herself in the bottle and left me to fend for myself. Shoved me off into the corer and expected me to take care of myself. But then when she needed someone to take care of her, who'd she call? Me. I can understand the resentment and the anger. I can understand what drove her to murder. But I don't know how I can feel pity for a serial killer."

"You're not pitying her."

"I am and it scares the hell out of me. She's a murderer. But I feel for her."

"I don't get it, Liv."

I sigh. "Emma's mother favored Matt over her. Emma got shoved off into the corner, while Mom played with Matt. But when Matt went off to med school and Mommy got sick, guess who got called? I understand that - the feeling of being taken for granted. My mother shoved me off into the corner to drink herself stupid. And when she disappeared at night, I thought that if I was a good girl, she'd stay home. She'd want to be around me. I worked hard, to be the good girl, but she didn't notice. She left me to take care of myself and grow up on my own, pretty much. But then, when she needed someone to take care of her, when she couldn't get up off the floor or make it into her own bed at night, who'd she call? There were a couple of nights when I almost didn't go over because it pissed me off so much."

"I still don't get it." He's confused, still.

"Emma's mother favored Matt. My mother drowned herself in the bottle. Both of us got shoved off to one side and ignored, till our mothers needed something. I can understand what made her do this." I run my fingers through my hair.

"So you see the similarities."

"Yeah. I do."

"But you know what I see? I see the differences in you two. Okay, your mothers treated you like crap. That's the only similarity I see. Emma let it get to her. She got angry enough to go out and kill completely innocent women, after she murdered her own mother. I'm sorry, but you gotta be pretty damned cold to kill your own mother. You stuck it out, taking care of your mother."

"Only because there wasn't anyone else to do it and she wasn't sick. Just drunk." I point out.

"But you didn't get angry with her, for the way she treated you as a kid. You buried the hatchet, I guess. You put it aside. Emma couldn't do that. That's the difference."

"I knew why she'd done it. I could understand the pain."

"Exactly. And I think Emma just got pissed, seeing her mother favor Matt, when she couldn't understand why. When she worked hard, her mother just turned a blind eye to it. She's a killer; you're a cop. That's the difference, right there."

I shake my head. "It's not that simple. I'm supposed to feel for the women she killed and their families, but instead I wind up feeling for her? I'm supposed to feel pity for the victims, not the perp."

"Liv, emotions get screwed up around here. Not everything's clear, remember? Sometimes it takes you a while to figure out how you feel."

And with that, he walks away. Leaving me here to think. And I do have a lot to think about.


End file.
